The Potter Curse
by Phoenix Tearz
Summary: Harry and Ginny's son, James, realizes that maybe redheads aren't so bad... ONE SHOT!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Beth, Trevor, Alanna, Lily, Naida, and James are mine.

A/N: I picture James as really sweet guy. He's a little bit more self-conscious than Ginny, and less courageous than Harry. But, nevertheless, he's got a lot of the two inside of him. He's a loving boy, growing up in the Potter house, and this curse is something not to be taken lightly.

'**The Potter Curse'**

If there was one thing James Langdon Potter had learned from his father it was the fact that a beautiful redhead could be the best and worst thing that ever happened to a bloke. Having Ginny Weasley's love made Harry Potter capable of killing Voldemort. That was the best. However, when Harry would almost kill himself in a Wronski Feint at that weeks Quidditch match, he would sleep on the couch for a few days because he'd scared his wife so much. That was the worst. And therefore, beautiful redheads were Potter men's downfall.

Because of this awful curse, James was definitely weary of any redheaded girls not related to him. This was easy, seeing as how most redheads at Hogwarts were Weasley's and directly related to him. Still, it didn't make the lad any less cautious.

He'd become aware of said curse when he was only nine years old. His mum and dad had just completed a blazing row on the issue of Harry buying James his first broomstick without consulting Ginny. He'd stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, without noticing his oldest child trying to tickle a gnome in the garden.

Harry had paced back and forth in front of the strawberries for some time before he muttered, "Bloody redheads…too damn fiery for _my_ own good. Downfall of all Potter men…" And thus, James was introduced to the curse and made a pact to never trust a redheaded girl… except his mum because she was frightening when he didn't do exactly as she said.

For years, James kept his pact. He eventually decided to trust his sister Lily, for she was only four at the time and wasn't scary at all. Even when he started Hogwarts he didn't have a problem. All girls had cooties anyway.

When he turned thirteen, he began to notice girls. No redheads, mind you, but girls were brilliant. He decided most of them were cool, especially ones who played Quidditch.

It was fifth year when he began to have problems. Her name was Bethany Miller. You see, this curse was a very insistent little bugger, and she always sat in front of him in class. This, as you might guess, was a problem because he stared at the back of her head all day… her _redhead_.

He best friend, Trevor Pellins, told him to get over it. "Redheads are hot, mate, go for it." James shoved him and ignored the advice. O.W.L. tests were coming up and his own downfall would not be appreciated.

In his sixteenth year, he spoke to the only redhead at Hogwarts not related to him. Well, she spoke to him, but that wasn't the point. It was in April, and he couldn't help staring out the Charms window as Professor Flitwick squeaked on.

"Ow!" he hissed, as Trevor had just jammed his elbow into his best friend's rib cage. "What do you want?" Trevor just grinned and nodded in the general direction of the next table. James looked up to see Bethany smiling shyly.

"I was just asking if you had an extra quill…Trevor said you might."

Without staring too long at her, James bent down and then offered the girl a feathered quill.

"Thank you, James," she said with a bright smile. Tossing her red hair behind her shoulders, she turned around.

"I don't see what the big deal is. The curse isn't real, James," Trevor told his angry friend as they packed away their Charms text. "It was just a quill."

"The curse _is_ real," he retorted.

"How can you be so sure?"

As they walked out of the room, bags slung over their shoulders, James sighed. "I'm sure because that was my very last quill… and I gave it to her..."

Trevor just shrugged at the irony of the situation. "I say 'suck it up, man.' I've told you this before, but redheads are hot."

He had stared at nothing but the back of Bethany Miller's head for five hundred and thirteen days and there was almost a whole month of school left in sixth year. Even now, while he was supposed to be studying for exams, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She always sat in the same corner of the library – not too secluded, but quiet enough that she could concentrate. Finally giving up, he rubbed a hand through his hair and glanced sideways at Bethany. She was staring at the wall and biting her lips while tapping fingers on her forgotten book.

James didn't know what possessed him to do it. Well, it was obviously the curse, but how could he let himself down like this? Anyway, he found himself standing directly in front of her chair, looking like an idiot and not sure what to say. Damn the Potter men curse to Hell!

"Uh," he began _very_ eloquently. She started and turned to face him. "Can I sit here?" He silently begged her to say no.

At first, she quirked an eyebrow and then looked around at the empty table he had just recently vacated. Finally, she smiled and said, "Sure."

He almost fell over in his haste to sit down and she giggled. Congratulating himself on not _totally_ being an ass, he grinned (involuntarily, of course) at the girl and decided she was very pretty.

It was the last day of the year when he decided she was really pretty… gorgeous, in fact. It came upon him with no warning, and he calmly asked Trevor to perform the Killing Curse on him. "I've fallen for the curse, there is nothing more awful," he practically wailed in their compartment on the train.

Just then, his sister, Alanna swept in and said to Trevor, "Is he still going on about that curse?" She sat down beside her older brother. "Look, I know you think it's horrible, but it's not. Grandma and Granddad loved each other so much that they even died together. Mum and Dad would do the same thing. You know how many times we've walked in on them!"

All three (Trevor was a regular at the Potter residence) blanched at the memories. James gagged. Sometimes, he figured, his parents loved each other too much.

"The point is," Trevor continued with Alanna's thought, "is that there's nothing wrong with being attracted to a certain hair color. It has nothing to do with their personality."

"And redheads are hot?" James guessed.

"Actually," smirked Trevor and gazing at Alanna, "I'm definitely starting to favor the raven hair."

Alanna guffawed and snorted at the innuendo. "Only in your dreams, Pellins."

"See! Alanna is the perfect example of a girl channeling a redhead's personality!" Alanna gave her brother's best friend an evil glare.

"Cut it out!" James groaned. Those two were always at each others throats. "Focus on me, would you?"

"Honestly? I think you should suck it up and find your Gryff courage," said his sister. "Dad would be so disappointed if he only knew."

"Dad's the one who informed me of the curse," he explained to them.

"They had just had a major _row_!" she argued.

"Whatever…don't undermine my Gryffindor courage."

"What courage? I don't see any, do you?" she asked Trevor.

He shook his head. "Nope, not at all."

"I hate you both equally," James responded miserably.

James got off the Hogwarts Express and started towards the group of Weasley's.

"Hey, son," greeted the aging Harry, taking James into a hard hug.

"Hi, Dad."

"James is in love with a redhead," an eleven year old Lily told her father. She didn't even look up from her book. James glared hard at his sister.

"Oh, Lil,' you weren't supposed to say anything," Alanna scolded the oblivious girl as Trevor laughed in the background.

"And what's so wrong with redheads, James Potter?" his mother demanded with hands on her hips. He noticed that her upper lip was quirked as if she were trying not to laugh at her son.

"Potter's are cursed," he mumbled, embarrassed. Harry laughed and patted his son's back.

"It's not a curse, James. It's a gift."

"How?" he asked, looking up at his father with such hope that he felt ridiculously like a five year old, sitting on Harry's lap and waiting for him to tell one of his adventure stories.

"Redheads are attracted to Potter's. It's a natural gift us men were blessed with. Trust me; the temper is well worth your while. Redheads are very…passionate." He and his wife shared a knowing smile and eye twinkle as their children gagged.

James ignored the rest of the catch-up conversation, thinking about his Dad's words. A gift? He'd never through of it like that. And to think he'd almost lost his Gryffindor pride because of some girl's hair color! He shook his head and grinned to himself. He caught the eye of Trevor, who tilted his head to one side and quirked a suggestive eyebrow. James followed the direction with his eyes and they widened when he realized what he best friend was saying. Bethany.

She was standing near the exit of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with a trunk sitting at her side. She looked thoroughly lost, and was twisting a strand of red hair around her finger. He caught his breath and found his feet carrying his body towards her.

"Hi," he greeted. She smiled easily, even as her eyes still searched the crowd. James knew she was looking for someone. He knew a lot of things about her, after sharing the same library table with her for the past month.

"Hello."

"I…um…" He scratched his head, trying to find the right words. It was hard, seeing as how she wouldn't even look at him. "I'll miss studying with you for the holidays."

_That got her attention_, James said inwardly. Her head at snapped around, red hair flying, and she looked him directly in the eye.

"Me too," she answered softly. She picked up her trunk, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Listen, James, I've got to go. I'll see you next year. Goodbye."

He just nodded dumbly as she walked away, being enveloped in a loving hug by a short, brunette lady who he assumed was her mum. James felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his Dad giving him a knowing look.

"She's cute," he offered with a twinkling grin. "Are you going to write her over the summer?"

"Oh, Dad," Alanna said pityingly, "that is so old fashioned."

James smirked, but said, "You know, I just might. Be right back."

"You have two minutes and then we're leaving you!" Naida, his ten year old sister, called out.

"Bethany?" he said, coming closer to the three Miller's. He nodded at her father, a friendly looking man with about as many wrinkles as Harry, and smiled at Mrs. Miller. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure, James," she said wearily, with a confused look.

"I was just wondering… if…well…"

She sighed. "What is it, James? I'm tired, and I want to get home." She rubbed her eyes.

"It's just that…" he trailed off again and sighed. He then shook his head.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then reopened them. "That's great, James. See you next year."

Realizing this was his last chance, he looked back at his father, who smiled encouragingly with Naida swinging from his back.

"Bethany, wait!" he yelped as she moved to join her parents again.

"I'm tired of waiting," she answered bluntly, and he took a step back.

That was all he needed. With that confidence, he could do this. He took a deep breath and asked, "May I write you over the summer?"

At this, she looked up into his face and gave him a brilliant, beaming smile that he couldn't help but reciprocate.

"I think I'd like that very much," she answered. Her father cleared his throat and she jumped. "Oh, I have to go! See you, James!" He watched her until she disappeared through the brick column and out into the Muggle world.

This time, it was Trevor who slapped him on the back. He sighed, staring at the place she'd disappeared. "Don't worry, mate, it's only a few months… you'll survive."

James grinned and nodded, thinking he might have to start one of those letters tonight.

* * *

He entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters looking for her. He'd written letter after letter all summer, reading words written in her penmanship for hours, pouring over every word. They'd even met in Diagon Alley in mid-July for ice cream, where he'd nervously asked her to be his girlfriend.

His head whipped this way and that, looking for red. It was difficult though, seeing as how everyone entering the platform had ginger hair.

"Bloody Weasley's," he muttered.

"Hey, mate!" Trevor greeted him with a pat on the back. The boys laughed as they did their 'secret welcoming handshake.' "I hear someone's looking for you," said the boy.

James looked at him seriously, with question in his eyes and Trevor sighed.

"It's such a great opportunity to take the micky out of you, but I just don't have the heart. Little Miss Miller is standing near the train." Without thanking his friend, James pushed him out of the way and practically sprinted towards the train. "You're welcome, mate!" he vaguely heard Trevor call.

As he caught sight of her, he stopped and looked. She somehow seemed different, after only a month. She had many more freckles from the sun, something his Mum had always said she hated about having red hair. She was twirling her fingers around each other, looking nervous, but smiling at the conversation her friends were having around her.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and walked swiftly towards her while calling, "Beth!"

She looked up and smiled brightly, saying something to her friends who all turned around to look at him and then giggled. She tore herself away from them and walked towards him. "James," she answered.

There was a foot between them, and he just looked at her, not exactly sure how to continue. He'd never had a _girlfriend_ to meet on the platform before. Fortunately, she answered all his questions by leaping up and wrapped arms around his neck.

His arms went around her waist and pulled her closer. She looked up and gave him a very welcome kiss on the lips. When they pulled away, she placed her head on his chest, and his chin lay on top of it. "Great Dumbledore, did I miss you," he whispered into her hair… her _red hair_.

The Potter curse could go to Hell.


End file.
